Traitors and Treachery
by ForthEorlingas12
Summary: Ionrom is a simple soldier stationed at Amon Sul. As the Witch-King of Angmar presses his attack on the kingdom of Arnor, and a personal tragedy affects him, will Ionrom be able to stand and fight, when others flee?


**This is set during the time when the Witch-King was attempting to bring down Arnor. No familiar characters except Arveleg I. Forgive me if I have any of my facts wrong...**

**I also added a personal twist to the story which may not have been listed by Tolkien himself. That can be found in this chapter. **

* * *

**Prologue:**

Ionrom adjusted his bow around his abdomen. He could do nothing but stare at the ground hopelessly as he dragged his feet along the dirt pathway. He could not take the news he had just received, not at a time like this. Those words Fedalen had said almost in a whisper repeated over and over in his head, swirling, making him annoyingly dizzy and confused. The scene was all in a blur to him, even though it had happened only hours earlier. He shook his head, hating with the every fire and passion in his heart the forces of Angmar, and the evil dark lord Sauron behind them. How could any living thing be so corrupt and hard hearted? Even enough to turn the bravest and hardiest of hearts dark? He could hardly believe it.

Ionrom finally brought himself to look up. Before him, the pathway of dirt ended, and a cobblestone road began. Noticing this, he tilted his head further upward, and saw the great open gates of Amon Sûl. He proceeded forward, slightly surprised at how close to home he already was. As he entered the stronghold, battalions of soldiers and archers ran to and fro, all brandishing swords, arrows, or spears in a somewhat dangerous way to others around them. There were few peasants out and about, practically giving them permission to be reckless and not careful. He wondered if Fedalen had returned to gather his possessions before he left. He had decided that if he saw him, he would give him a good beating after giving some thought to the matter. But that would give rise for suspicion amongst the men.

Ionrom leapt to the right as a battalion of horsemen galloped past him and through the gate. They were all shouting something he couldn't distinguish between the Common Tongue and Elvish. After they were past, he continued through the gate until he was in the city. His head drooped. He was so tempted to just close his eyes…

"Ionrom!"

He looked up to see a woman with a wailing baby in her arms while holding up her skirt run over to him from one of the smaller buildings. She impatiently handed the child over to him as she reached her husband. "The soldiers!" she exclaimed. "They- they're clearing everyone out! All the women and children!"

Ionrom nodded and looked down once more. "Everything will be fine," his deep masculine voice soft and sad, for once.

"No it won't!" she exclaimed. "Bregland says that there's a rumor of an attack!"

"Don't listen to him. There is no need for worry on your part."

His wife took the child back from him, who had stopped crying, and said, "I worry about you."

"Don't worry. If the forces of evil are as stubborn as I think, then all will be well."

She cradled the baby in her arms. "I suppose I am to be leaving soon, then?"

Ionrom nodded. He kissed his baby son on the forehead as he drifted off into a slumber. "Do you have all your things?"

She nodded. "Bregland packed them up for me. The horse is ready to take us to Minas Tirith."

"Us?" he inquired.

"You're coming with me," she said with a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"Nay," he said sadly. "You know I must stay and defend this place. They need every man they can get. Fornost depends on it."

She nodded. "That's what Fedalen told me."

"Fedalen?" he demanded. "When did he talk to you?"

She shrugged. "It was before dawn when the baby woke."

"What did you tell him?" he asked, growing anxious.

"Nothing, really. He just came by to get some of his possessions from the Tower, and he asked where you were."

Ionrom breathed angrily. "Athrel, you should not have spoken to that- that- beast!"

Athrel furrowed her brow. "Why not? I trust him."

Ionrom shook his head. He leaned closer so no one else would hear. "We crossed paths this morning as I returned from Fornost. He stopped me on my way, and I noticed he was with a peculiar band of men upon black steeds. I asked him what his business was with them, and he told them to go on without him. They all had their hands on their weapons as they departed, though. He said in a whisper…" His voice trailed off. He looked down.

" 'You know, Ionrom, the Witch-King's forces are growing stronger. You know the downfall of Arnor is nigh,' he told me," continued Ionrom. "Then he said, 'Some of his men have met with me.' That was when he whispered almost inaudibly: 'I have joined his forces. I serve the Iron Crown now.'

"I could not believe what he was saying. He said it as if he was regretting it, and wasn't certain about what was happening."

Athrel gasped and looked away, the baby stirring in his sleep as she did so. "How- why would he have done such a terrible thing?"

Ionrom shrugged. "I guess he would rather be a coward and have a higher chance of survival in these times than stay valiant and true to his blood and country."

Athrel sighed, with a twisting sensation in her stomach. "But, Fedalen doesn't seem the type who would betray us!"

"Oh, yes he was. He always had a cowardly personality, and would avoid any injury if possible. He seemed to always hide behind either mine or Bregland's back. He was always the one on the back lines, while we were on the front. I felt angry and betrayed more than surprised. I knew it was only a matter of time before this happened."

The baby boy began crying in Athrel's arms once again. He reached for his father, and was promptly handed over. The infant giggled as Ionrom threw his son into the air and caught him. Ionrom laughed at the baby's expression and held him close to his face. The baby planted an open mouthed kiss on his cheek in the fashion of most young ones and wrapped his arms around his beloved father's neck, taking up handfuls of his brown neck length hair.

Athrel's eyes watered. "He will miss you terribly. I can't wait to see his reaction when you arrive in Gondor."

"I hope he will remember me. I will miss him in return. But he should have no reason to worry. I will not be gone long," Ionrom said. He kissed his son on the forehead.

"Ionrom, I have been giving some thought to it, and, well, once you arrive back in Gondor, then we should make it our permanent dwelling. We both have relatives there, and I think it would be a better place to raise our son. Don't you?"

Ionrom shrugged. "I suppose so. We must make sure everything's packed, though. Did you leave any possessions at the house?"

"Not that I recall," she replied.

"Good," he said. He looked around. There were several times as many soldiers as there were peasants about the place. "It is nigh time for you to leave."

"Oh, Ionrom, please. I don't want to leave! I want to stay with you. I want you to come with us if I cannot stay."

"Athrel, I have told you already. I cannot leave. I will be there. Trust me." He smiled down at his wife. She smiled back supportively.

"I love you," she said. "We should be going now."

"Nodding, Ionrom replied, "I love you too, my dear." He escorted her to the cart and horse where all their things were packed up. She climbed aboard and took their son as he was handed up to her.

"You will be all right?" he asked concernedly.

Athrel nodded.

"Be careful. Keep to the road, and don't stop if you can keep going. It grows dark and dangerous out there, but you will find safety once you get further south. Make a stop at Edoras for certain. There, you can restock and rest."

Their child reached down from the cart to his father. When his wishes were not fulfilled, he drew back and complained to his mother.

"Go, now," Ionrom said softly. "Be safe." He reached up and kissed his wife, then kissed his son. "I love you."

Athrel smiled, wiping tears from her grey eyes. "See you soon, then?"

Ionrom nodded. The cart lurched, then went on as the horse started trotting.

"Farewell. For now."


End file.
